With teeth
by fourwalls
Summary: Third part of my OlivierXScar fic. There was something nagging him at the back of his mind, something that Miles admitted once during their conversations. Something he could never forget. It was about his Ice Queen. Miles centric.


So more than a year has passed since I wrote the first two parts, but I am still receiving a lot of faves and reviews from the two stories. So, because of a pretty high demand, I made a third.

This one deviates a bit from the previous two stories, as it focuses more on Miles since I wanted to elaborate on the ending of the second part. I hope you all like this one as much as the previous two. The content is a bit heavier, and more serious. I hope it wouldn't be a bore.

For those who hasn't read the prequels of this, may I direct you to the links:

Part 1: .net/s/6053893/1/Closer_to_the_Fire_and_Ice

Part 2: .net/s/6065506/1/Please

Link's not working so just copy paste it after fanfiction.

And as always, I apologize in advance for all grammar, spelling, and tense mistakes. And I do claim I own nothing from the FMA series. Like that disclaimer is really necessary.

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><p>With Teeth<p>

'_This should have never happened. It shouldn't have happened. Why did this happen?' Miles was rubbing his temples and shaking his head. He grit his teeth as he uttered those words outwardly forgetting that the person he seemed to direct his blame was right beside him. Truthfully, he knew that there was no one to blame but him. _

_Olivier pushed herself up right next to him from her bed. She was looking at her captain's bare back as he was sitting at the edge of her bed._

_The room was dark. They were only silhouettes, two figures against minimal illumination from small slit-like windows atop the wall. Outside it was night, and the world was covered with ice, but the snow stopped falling and the wind stopped howling. It was calm and cold, much like how Olivier was acting right now. _

'_It's wrong, it's wrong in more ways than one' Miles continued, obviously trying to convince himself.' You are my commanding officer. I am your subordinate. If the council finds out, I might face a court-martial, and so do you.' Miles continues to chatter on as Olivier watched him flatly. She did not miss his gesture as his right hand went to touch the gold band on his left ring finger. '… I have a wife.' The captain whispered._

_The descendant from Ishval failed to see how the general clenched her jaws. _

'_Quiet.' Olivier swung her legs to the side of the bed and stood, the blanket sliding off her naked form. Miles turned to look at her, regret written all over his features._

_The general causally walked to the side chair where her robe hung and she put it on in no particular hurry and no heed concerning her nakedness. She sat on the chair and crossed her leg, facing her captain. Her eyes dug deep into his. _

_Miles searched her face for anything, for an answer, for what would happen next, for what should happen next. Her expression was leveled, but for a fleeting moment, he thought he saw a trace of guilt and he realized he was still clutching his ring. _

'_So it was a mistake.' She spoke, but her tone suggests otherwise. 'It's not going to happen again.'_

_The finality of it was unquestionable, that Miles felt relieved. So why, after he walks out of her room, did he feel miserable?_

-0-

It was another searing day in Ishval, just the way Scar liked it. After writing up the plans in Briggs, which took half of the year, they were now on the implementation phase, the phase that would decide whether the hard work they did all those months would work. Scar was happy to be in his hometown. There was nothing better than the feel of hot sand scratching the soles of his feet. It spelled home. The same could not be said about his Ishvalan brother who spent half of his life in Briggs.

_No,_ he thought, he remembered something that he would choose over home. Unconsciously, his fingers stroked his palm as he remembered the feel of her hair and her skin against his. He brushed the thought aside as he knew it would just worsen his longing for her.

He squinted his eyes directly overhead where the sun was battering the dry land. Miles had always been complaining to him of the heat, and how much he's dying to take off his uniform. Scar could not blame him. The Military uniform was built to be tough, and therefore thick as well. It was not made to be comfortable, and especially not made for the deserts of Ishval. Scar was at least lucky to be allowed to wear what he always does, a light cotton shirt and an airy black pair of pants. However, Miles was the commanding officer in charge of the project, so he had to express authority through words, action and appearance. Although Scar was impressed, despite all that, Miles was able to maintain composure, and ignore the heat when in front of the men.

The project only started three weeks ago. Ishval liaisons had already been assigned and given particular duties. They report either directly to him or to the Major.

Scar was standing at a dune a little ways outside the city. He felt peace course through him as he saw the promise of the rise of the fallen city. He gazed at his surviving brothers working hand and hand with the pale skinned Amestrians, putting aside their differences, working together as brothers. With the peace he also felt nostalgia and a sadness he knew would never be erased from his heart. His gaze fell on a particular building with that familiar trail of holes where the murderer Zolf J. Kimblee once stood and blew up his family, the same spot where his brother gave his arm, and his life to him. Many years had passed since that nightmarish time, but memories such as these never fade, nor will they ever dull.

He shook his head and climbed down the Dune. On his way back to the city, he heard someone ask about him. He turned to face them.

"That's him." An old man was pointing at him. "That's Scar." And the old man waved at him and left the Amestrian man who was asking.

Scar walked to him. As he got closer, he saw how the Amestrian was rooted where he was standing and he could see the fear from his eyes.

"Looking for me?" Scar prompted when the man just stood there staring. It didn't help that he was wearing his constant scowl

"Uh…" He started.

Scar noticed he was holding. "You want to give that to me?" He gestured at the paper that was in the man's hand.

Remembering what he was supposed to do, the man muttered a quick affirmation and handed the receipt to Scar. "The bill is right there," the man can barely keep his voice steady, but it didn't bother Scar, "We… we'll be awaiting payment until the end of the month as as…" He gulped. "As the contract states, the next shipment would be next week. All the materials are being unloaded from those trucks." He waved a shaky hand to a certain direction, Scar counted the number of trucks.

"Very well. I'll hand this over to the Major so he can already make arrangements for your payment."

"Y-yes s-sir."

Scar turned around and made his way to the makeshift office located at the southeast side of Ishval. It was one of the few buildings which survived the war with only minor damages. He entered the building and went straight to the last door without knocking. He found a startled Miles sitting behind a desk filled with papers.

"You could knock." Miles stated with a sigh. There was something he was holding in his hand, a photograph, Scar assumed, which he tried to inconspicuously place inside the desk drawer.

"I know, but the door wasn't locked." Scar answered letting his eyes speak more than his words.

Miles looked up at him and frowned. For a fraction of a second, he seemed to be debating with himself but he quickly let it go. "That is why the door is closed. Anyway, what is it?"

"The bricks have arrived, and I am handing you the bill." Scar walked to the desk and passed him the paper, another one to add to the growing stacks on Miles desk. He accepted it with a nod.

"I'll mail this to Central as soon as possible, probably next week." Miles glanced sideways to a file holder filled with bills and reports needed to be sent to the central office.

"Need any help?" Scar inclined his head to the papers.

Miles shook his head. "No need. You are doing your part as the overseer, and I am doing mine as the clerk, or one in charge with the papers. Whatever you might want to call it. I'm good. Besides I am ahead of schedule."

Scar eyed the papers scattered all around the room and doubted the claim of his red eyed brother.

Miles chuckled as he noticed his uncertainty. "I know it doesn't seem that way, but I am ahead of schedule in terms of submitting paper works, don't worry. I'll ask for help when I need it. Besides, we got guys here from Central assisting me with the reports."

Scar gave him a pointed expression that the major did not miss, but he let it go. "If you say so." Scar headed to the door.

"Scar, the photograph –"

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Scar said without turning around.

"I know, but I want to." Miles answered with a hint of ache in his tone.

Scar began to turn to face him. "It's a picture of my family." The Major revealed.

"Your family?"

"Yeah," Miles stood to walk to the window loosening his collar. "My wife and kids."

Scar didn't know what surprised him more, that Miles was talking about his wife and kids or that he had a wife and kids.

"I didn't know you have a family." Scar replied. There was something nagging him at the back of his mind, something that Miles admitted once during their conversations. Something he could never forget. It was about his Ice Queen.

"I really don't talk about them much. I don't like mixing my personal business with my work; in the same way that I avoid talking about work to my wife, well at least when she isn't nagging about it." Miles smiled, his eyes distant.

Scar didn't understand why Miles was talking about this, but he let him speak. He wasn't an expert with conversations, but he knew that sometimes, silence and the act of listening could help more than any spoken word; especially when a person seems to be troubled, which what Miles appeared to be. "I rarely see them. Being a soldier for this country demands me to be on duty full time. I rarely go home. I am lucky if I get to see them once or twice a month." He walked back to his desk and took the photograph and walked to where Scar was standing.

Scar took the photograph being offered by Miles. In it was an Amestrian woman with short auburn hair and piercing grey eyes. She had a beautiful face, and a gentle smile hovered on her thin lips. He can tell just by this picture what kind of woman she was, she was strong like a pillar, and she was holding the house together. In the same photgraph were three kids, the eldest a girl standing next to her mother, she had the same auburn hair and gray eyes, but her skin was of a darker shade, most likely the shade of her fathers skin. Both the younger ones were boys, around the age of 5 and 3. They both had they hair and eyes of Ishval. But what caught Scar's attention was the expression in the face of the older girl, who he deemed to be about 7 years old. She wasn't smiling, and it seems to him there was distaste that can be seen through her features.

He remembered what his mother told him when he was younger, _a picture holds a lot of words and a lot of stories._ He immediately understood.

"Your wife is beautiful." Was all that Scar could say about the picture.

Miles took the photograph and looked at it once more. He was smiling but his eyes betrayed him. "Leone. My wife's name is Leone." He returned the photo on the desk. "You were a priest once right?"

The question caught Scar off guard. "My master was a monk. I was training to be one."

He didn't need to add how his road to that path was cut short by the war.

"Do monk's on your culture get married?

"No, they dedicate their lives entirely for god and the people."

Miles studied him and nodded. "I see. I'd tell you now, it's hard to serve two masters. In the same way, it's hard to serve in the military and have a family."

Scar frowned, he had a feeling in his gut that Miles was trying to send him a message, a message that he could not, or more accurately would not address directly. He had a suspicion he already knew what.

"Do you miss her, Scar?"

The one in question froze. All of a sudden, the longing he suppressed earlier came back stronger, and memories assaulted his head. He kept a straight face despite this, his emotion only betrayed by the tensing of his shoulders. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Sure you do." Miles answered with a smile. "I've known already, you don't have to pretend."

Scar just looked at him, his face unreadable. Of course he knew what he was talking about, but he had been explicitly given an order not to divulge. He still wanted to keep his head above his shoulders.

"I'm sure you don't need me to state the obvious." Miles said as he sat on one of the chairs in the room. "You and the general. I know." He spoke so casually, that Scar almost forgot his admission, but there was a tell-tale sign suggesting otherwise. His hand, almost hidden from his sight was balled into a fist.

Scar took a chair for himself and sat opposite the major. "How long have you known?"

"For quite a while now." Miles shrugged.

"Who else?"

"No one, just me."

Scar put his hands together and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knee. "How?"

Their eyes met and a world of understanding passed between the two. Miles broke eye contact and leaned back to look at the window.

Scar stayed in his position with eyes narrowed. He already got his answer. "Why?'

The major took a deep breath, still avoiding looking at the man in front of him. He released that breath. "I don't know."

Scar leaned back. "Olivier." He stated remembering that particular conversation he had with the major.

Miles frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Olivier." Scar repeated. "You called her Olivier once."

There was surprise and realization that was etched on Miles' face. But he didn't affirm his statement, nor did he deny it.

I was all Scar needed to know. It was enough for him to understand that there was something that ties the past of the two, and it's not just their service in Briggs together. He didn't need the details nor did he need to press his red-eyed brother to say more than what he has to, or more than what he wants to.

Scar didn't need to press the major further this hard place where he found himself into. He also knew that if it comes to winning Olivier over, if it ever came to that point where he would compete against the major, he wouldn't back away.

But something with Miles' demeanor and words made Scar certain that the major had already pushed such an idea out of his head. That he will fight against this feeling for the sake of his family. It was just that such remnants of this kind of emotion were difficult to completely erase. It was a love going deeper than lust. A private bond that is shared between two people going together through hell and back.

Scar stood and walked to the door. "I'll make sure they already start building after unloading."

"Yeah. You do that."

Scar closed the door, and not for the first time, did he envy this particular descendant of Ishval.

-0-

"You seem awfully distracted." Roy Mustang said as he caught up with Major General Mira Armstrong. "And awfully lacking a lot of sleep."

A vein almost burst from Armstrong's temple. Just hearing Mustang's voice does that to her. "What do you want?" She barely kept her voice neutral, but it the threat of violence was hanging around the edges.

With Mustang, one can never be sure. One can never be too cautious.

"My my." He said amicably, pretending not to notice the danger. "I just wanted to congratulate you on the efforts in rebuilding Ishval. It is all the rage in Central right now. It's progressing faster than we imagined."

Even a compliment can turn into something else, something far from pleasant. Olivier kept her guard.

"Congratulate my men, Major Miles and Scar in particular they are the one working there, not me." Olivier continued walking, her pace not breaking. She didn't need this right now; she's got a lot of things going, and work was among the least of her problems.

"Still, you are the head of the ship, they answer to you, so ultimately this is your achievement." Mustangs eyes almost closed at his smiled his most innocent. Olivier was thinking she liked it better when he was blind. Why did Dr. Marcoh restore his sight anyway?

She stopped and Mustang almost tripped on her. "That is the thinking of you people south of us."

"South of us?"

"South of the Northern wall of Briggs. I hate _your_ kind." Olivier pointed out. "No wonder you quickly rose to the ranks. We from Briggs do it differently. We don't take credit from what other achieved. We act singularly, but in unison."

Mustang scratched his chin. "So harsh, as always. No wonder. Not everything can be done by one man alone, or one woman alone," he inclined his head to her, "that is why partnerships are made. And the strongest one can be between a man and a woman, but you wouldn't understand that, knowing you. Anyway I am not here to argue." He shrugged.

While Mustang was chattering one, he didn't notice how Olivier's hand already went to her sword and was grasping at it tightly, and how her teeth were clenching and her eyeballs had already turned white.

"You want to expound on that?" Olivier articulated the words one at a time, her voice dipping almost to a growl.

Mustang opened his eyes and felt an impending doom as he instinctively waved his hand in apology. "Forgive me, forgive me. I wasn't addressing anyone in particular. I wasn't saying it to point out how you still haven't found a suitable partner."

"You… weren't?" Olivier's shadow seemed to have increased in size and it was casted on Mustang. She really didn't need this, not now. It had been three weeks since the dispatch Miles and Scar to Ishval. Three weeks too long. She doesn't need to be aggravated any further.

"General Mustang." Someone called from behind Olivier. Mustang looked around her too see Lisa Hawkeye standing in attention.

Olivia turned to look as well, and dropped her hands from her blade.

"What is it?" Mustang asked.

"Fuhrer Grumman wishes to see you."

He nodded at Lisa. "Very well." He then addressed the major general. "I am sorry that our conversation had to be cut short. We'll continue this again, maybe over coffee." But Mustang thought it's the last thing he wanted right now. He almost felt the need to run.

"Surely we will, and I'll make sure you'll be paying" Olivier answers. Her face was blank but Mustang didn't miss the threatening glint behind those icy blue eyes.

When they were already out of earshot from the lady general, the flame alchemist let out a breath of relief. "You saved me lieutentant."

"It seems like you always needed to be, sir. Although next time I may not be there so you better watch your mouth." There was a hint of a smirk on Lisa's features.

They walked quietly for a minutes until Lisa asked. "Man Issues?"

Mustang almost laughed, who would've thought, Olivier and a man. It was both dreadful and amusing. "Yeah," He answers barely containing his mirth. "Man Issues. Apparently, the general has them, or I wouldn't be standing here right now."

Lisa chuckled in acknowledgment.

-0-

'_General Philip Armstrong is retiring.'_

'_I heard the General is retiring.'_

'_I heard they are handing the wall over to his daughter.'_

'_They are handing the wall to a woman? Like she could handle it!'_

'_There's no way a woman can rule over us.'_

'_Colonel Olivier Armstrong from Central? Daughter of General Armstrong? A rich spoiled brat? No way!_

_The rumors had circulated all over Briggs the last month. Their general was retiring. Despite his peculiar ways and his love of tall tales, General Armstrong was an able commander who protected the northern border from Drachma for the past 20 years since he was assigned here. The Northern wall had never been under any serious threat since. Attacks were made but they were stopped effectively. The conditions in the border were also the harshest among the four corners of Amestris. How could Central decide to assign a woman to lead such an unforgiving place?_

_She arrived on the day the General announced his retirement and entrusted her men to his daughter, now Brigadier General Olivier Mira Armstrong, and at the same time, he entrusted her to his loyal men. She was promoted before the reassignment for only generals can man the strongholds of Amestris._

_First Lieutenant Miles was due to be promoted to Captain in the next few months during this time. His first glimpse of the General was her long golden hair sparkling against the winter sun. Even in the faint light, her golden head glimmered. His first thought was she wouldn't last a month. No, make that two weeks. A woman who has that much time to pamper her hair couldn't possibly expect to lead these machines of men that were stationed at Briggs. Later on, he would realize, her hair didn't need any pampering, it just naturally glows. _

_Her father, the outgoing Lieutenant General, urged her onto the platform to introduce her to the men. When she turned to face them, Miles further shortened the estimate to 1 week. She cannot possible survive this hell hole with a face like that. It was one of the most beautiful face he'd seen, but it was a joke to wear such a face in this sea of hardened men. He heard someone from behind him hitch his breath. He turned to look and see Warrant Officer Buccaneer staring at the lady general._

"_They are joking right?" The large man told him as he shook his head. Miles assumed that they were having the same trail of thought, but there was wonder in the Officer's eyes possibly attributing to the fact of looking at someone so beautiful. He wondered if he was wearing the same expression on his face._

_The woman stood on the platform and scanned the men of Briggs. Most of them are talking amongst themselves. Miles overheard a few saying that she only got the position because her father was also a renowned general. He couldn't say he disagreed. The woman was only about around his age, maybe a little older and yet already a general. Only alchemists can rise as fast which she wasn't. It could even be considered fast by alchemist standard._

"_I know what you are all thinking." Olivier Armstrong spoke, in a level tone. The crowd cascaded into silence. _

_The lady general panned her intense blue eyes among the soldiers. Already, Miles started to doubt his assumptions. There was power behind those eyes, an unmistakable aura of a born leader._

"_But I don't care." She continued, her voice was low, but it could be heard from all corners of the large room. There was strength behind that voice. It was said that first impressions last. And this woman, just through a few words was already communicating a formidable impression. "You can think what you like, talk what you what **I** would like you to understand though is that I am your general. My words are your scriptures. What I say, you do, and if you have a problem with that, you can come to me personally and we will discuss and settle your arguments."_

_They all didn't miss how she was tapping the sword at her side meaningfully._

"_Are we clear men of Briggs?"_

_There were murmurs of 'yes ma'am' here and there, but overall, most are still hesitant._

_Olivier Armstrong narrowed her eyes. She grabbed her sword and struck the metal platform under her feet. It produced a sharp metallic clang that resonated within the walls._

"_Let me repeat this, though I'd like you all to note that I don't like repeating myself. This is the only warning you'll get." She paused to let that sink in. "Are we clear men of Briggs?" She said louder this time._

_The men shouted "Yes sir!" in unison. Miles began to understand how in such a young age she was already holding a position held usually by men 20 years older than her._

_And this was the start of the legendary Northern Wall of Briggs. One week passed, she was still standing among them. One week turned to two, and the weeks turned to months then to years. She moved from being feared to secretly loved. Her men would give their life to her without sparing as single thought._

_When before her rule, the wall was rarely threatened to be broken, with her rule it never came close to being breached._

Miles would never forget that day as it was the start of a bittersweet journey. He was already married then and his wife was pregnant with their first child. He never imagined that he would have romantic feelings with the general but the war in Ishval changed all that. Being on this land reminded him of it more than it did. It was after that time that Olivier took notice of him as the sole descendant of Ishval spared from the purging. She didn't say much, but she kept him close to her, making him, her right hand. He was very much aware that she was doing this for his protection and to keep him in line, in case he thinks of doing something considered utterly stupid, which at the time, he came only a breath away to doing.

Miles walked on the dusty path of Ishval. The sky was crimson, the sun already hiding behind the dunes. He tugged at his collar as he attempted to let some of the heat dissipate. Miles was grateful he wasn't part of the war. At that time, he was confined in a cell, the higher ups still deciding on his fate. He wasn't sure what he'd do had he been ordered to hold a gun against his ancestral people. He remembered being bitter for being the only one to be spared. His grandparents, his parents weren't so lucky. He couldn't even look at himself at the mirror for a time after that. He had hated Amestris, and he was thinking all sorts of things until that time he confronted his general.

He'd never forget that day she changed him. It was the start of him having feelings for her more than what should be between a commander and a soldier. He asked why she chose him to be her right hand. She answered him in the most brutal ways she possibly can, telling him that as someone who had the blood of Ishval, he had the power to change how people think of his blood line, of how it is possible to work and be united with a culture that is different from their own.

But there was something in between what she said, a tale she would never tell. There was a trace of guilt within the general, of the sins committed in this barren land, a hope of redemption she was seeking from this red-eyed soldier.

In the years to come, Miles could only hope that his general had already been able to forgive herself, little by little. But having an ocean blood spilled by his hands, he understood that there was already no turning back, and no amount of reconciliation or regret could truly be enough forgive oneself. No amount of good deeds to bring back what had been done. It was when a soldier begins to shut off his mind and that inner voice whenever he pulls the trigger.

It was the connection so deep that a brotherhood in arms share, that no one from the outside would understand.

Miles stopped at an Inn near the border of the city. He already knew the room number so he went straight up without passing through the front desk. He found the room and knocked. He took a deep breath. He heard hurried footsteps from the other side of the door.

"Miles!" The woman smiled as she opened the door for him. Her grey eyes barely containing the excitement behind it. It pains him that his wife had to go through a whole world of pain because of him. He hated how he always left her alone, and lonely when he is on duty. She didn't deserve any it.

He was looking at her wearing the same smile, he reached down to hug her. "I missed all of you."

"We miss you too." She whispered back, he can hear her voice start to shake, but she takes a deep breath to steady herself.

"Smile for the kids." She said to him.

"I am." He answered, and pulled himself from the hug.

"They've been asking non-stop when you'll be arriving. Come now, don't waste any time standing there" She turns and heads inside.

Miles watched her. "Leone." He called out before entering. She turned to look at him. "I love you."

She looks at the ground and smiles, but he didn't miss the pained expression from her eyes. "I know." She whispers and heads back inside the room where all three kids are waiting.

_But not enough._ Miles could almost hear her say. **

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **The first part was too serious so I wanted to add something light, and I did it with making Olivier's and Mustang's interactions very much like the anime/manga. Don't get me wrong, I love Mustang, but that first part of their interaction was on Olivier's POV, and we all know how highly she thinks of him.

One more thing, I know there isn't much of the OlivierXScar thing going on in this fic, only bits and pieces, but I made this to explore what Miles could be going through. I enjoyed writing in his POV, and how Scar looks at him. He's a strong soldier, but I do think that men on that line of job would naturally have a few family problems, if being in a normal family already has a lot.

** that part, I wanted to try to make it across that his wife knew about the affair. I am not sure if I put it across well, hence this note. PLUS, I'd also like to add that it happened once, and never did again, I am not sure if I made that point well.

Oh, and I do would like to take note of the titles of the previous fics. If anyone noticed, they are all title of songs from Nine Inch Nails. The first one is Closer. If you look closer at the lyrics, it's purely sexual tension which was the first part of this now 3 part fic.

Next song is titled Please, and what made me decide to use it was a particular line from the song saying 'Will you please complete me.' I know too clichéd, but then again there is a lot of the tension in the song. The right kind of tension. See for yourself: /watch?v=Y8aJxSyVwiE

And then this latest part, With Teeth. It's just that I already started with a pattern didn't want to break it. But it's also so appropriate. It starts 'She comes along, she gets inside, and she makes you better than anything you've tried…' /watch?v=T2GDFwA39g0

Links are not working but they are on youtube.

/end ramblings

But then Click the review button and tell what you think about this third part. It's too serious, I think I work better with a little comedy here and there.


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